


endlessly from today

by Rethira



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You, Tales of Xillia
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 17:10:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1193109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rethira/pseuds/Rethira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It only takes seven days to fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	endlessly from today

**Author's Note:**

> i forgot i had this and then people asked about it and yeah
> 
> late valentine's fic??? maybe

Alvin can materialise a sword when he fights – Jude’s not sure which pin he uses for it – but he had the gun already. Jude’s not sure what to make of that, but it’s handy in a pinch. Alvin can apparently materialise bullets for his gun as well as the sword, which at least saves them the trouble of trying to find somewhere that sells bullets every time Alvin runs out. Not that Jude even knows where they might find such a shop – Alvin just smiles mysteriously when Jude asks.

“We’re not going to last very long if you hide things from me,” Jude mutters. “It’s not like it matters. We’re dead anyway.”

“I wouldn’t want to worry you,” Alvin replies, “besides, we might win, and then you’ll wish you never asked.”

Jude doesn’t reply to that; after a few minutes of silence, Alvin nudges Jude’s shoulder and says, “C’mon, let’s go.”

 

On the second day, Alvin asks Jude what his entry fee was.

Jude shrugs and replies, “I don’t remember.”

The look on Alvin’s face is indecipherable.

 

Alvin doesn’t seem very motivated to actually _win_ , despite what he said on the first day. He’s lazy and far too interested in dragging Jude into noodle bars than doing what they’re _supposed_ to be doing.

“It’s like you _want_ us to lose,” Jude doesn’t say.

Sometimes he catches Alvin staring, and the expression on his face is so beautifully sad that it takes his breath away. But then Alvin laughs or says something stupid- or just turns away, and the moment is lost.

 

Elize is a little girl who can breathe life into her doll. She’s partnered to a man who calls himself Rowen, and they’re probably the most competent Players in the Game.

“I don’t want to win,” Elize confesses. “Even if it means getting- even if it means I get my entry fee back, I don’t want to win.”

Alvin asks, “Why?”

Elize smiles and says, “All my friends are here.”

 

“We knew each other, didn’t we?” Jude asks on the fourth day.

Alvin swallows thickly. “Yeah.”

“I don’t remember,” Jude says. “I’m sorry.”

Alvin laughs. It sounds forced. “Entry fee. I’m flattered, kid.”

The rest of the day – a couple of hours really – passes in tense silence. The week is almost over.

 

Jude goes to check his phone and Alvin snatches it out of his hand.

“Hey,” Jude protests mildly. Alvin ignores him, shoving the phone in his pocket and then reaching out to cup Jude’s chin. “You’re shaking,” Jude comments.

Alvin chuckles harshly. “Yeah. Yeah I am.”

“Why?”

Alvin just embraces Jude in a crushing hug, burying his face in Jude’s shoulder. “I wish I’d never met you,” Alvin murmurs. His lips brush Jude’s throat.

 

It’s dark in the underpass, and Jude’s glad for it. Even if only other Players and Reapers can see them, he’s glad of the darkness.

He’s glad no-one can see the way Alvin has him hitched up against the wall. Glad no-one can see how red he’s gone – glad no-one can see his face. Even Alvin can’t, but that’s because Alvin keeps pressing biting kisses to the underside of Jude’s jaw. Alvin has one hand against the wall and one hand under Jude’s thighs, and every time Jude moves Alvin’s fingers dig in so hard it should hurt.

“Alvin,” Jude moans – Alvin _bites_ and his hips press tight against Jude’s. Jude chokes back another moan, clutching hard at Alvin’s back.

“Hang on,” Alvin murmurs, and then his hand under Jude’s thighs is gone and all that’s keeping him up are his legs around Alvin’s waist. They couldn’t be in a more compromising position if they _tried_.

And then Alvin’s hand moves between them, fumbling at buttons and zips and _oh_ , oh yeah they _could_.

“Put your hand back,” Jude hisses, only slightly surprised when Alvin obeys. He carefully reaches down and fumbles open Alvin’s jeans; Alvin sucks in a breath when Jude wraps a hand around his cock, his head dropping to rest on Jude’s shoulder again.

“Dammit, _Jude_ ,” Alvin groans.

“Just give me a second,” Jude replies, scrabbling at his own pants – and it’s _distracting_ the way Alvin keeps making tiny fleeting movements, like it feels so good he can’t _not_ -

Alvin hisses, and his hand drops away – Jude has to clutch at his back again and he almost falls anyway, but after a moment it doesn’t matter because Alvin’s hand is huge and warm and fisting their dicks together and Jude keeps making embarrassing noises high in his throat but he doesn’t _care_.

It’s frantic and dirty and so _right_.

 

Alvin kisses him after. Not the biting kiss this time, not the kiss that was all teeth.

This kiss is gentle, sweet. Kind of like an apology for all the roughness before.

“You loved me,” Jude whispers, like it’s a secret.

Alvin doesn’t deny it.

 

“It was me,” Alvin says. He’s shirtless now, and his jeans are still undone. He’s leaning against the wall. His gun hangs lazily from his fingertips. “I killed you.”

“Oh.” It’s not a surprise. Not really. It should be, but then again, Jude probably already knew. Before he forgot about Alvin. “Why?”

“I don’t remember,” Alvin replies. “Isn’t that hilarious? I don’t remember why I shot you.”

He tells Jude everything he does remember – the blood, mostly. How still Jude had been. How sick he’d felt, even as he’d been convinced it was the right thing to do. Realising that nothing, _nothing_ was worth this. How he’d tangled their fingers together, tight as he could with how stiff Jude was getting, and then he’d pulled the trigger again.

“You know what the worst thing is,” Alvin says, “I don’t know if I’d do it again.”

“I forgive you,” Jude says. It feels a little like lying.

 

The sixth day is like the fifth. Alvin presses Jude down against the ground, kisses with great new urgency. He doesn’t expect to survive. Jude doesn’t either. He finds he doesn’t mind.

 

On the seventh day, Jude takes Alvin’s hand and they go down to the river.

 

(Sometimes Alvin dreams. He dreams that he killed someone he loved, but he can’t remember their name or their face. He presses a gun to their head and gently pulls the trigger.)

 

(Other nights he dreams of a boy with dark hair and golden eyes, standing before a throne. There’s a person on the throne, a person who glows so fierce and bright that Alvin has to cover his eyes. And the boy says, “Let him live again. Please.”

The person on the throne asks, in a voice beyond hearing, “Why?”

The boy answers, “I loved him.”)

 

(But most nights Alvin doesn’t dream at all.)

**Author's Note:**

> [bonus](http://kratosaurioned.tumblr.com/post/76877526211/i-forgot-to-mention-but-originally-in-that-fic)


End file.
